Numb
by RyvenSilverflame
Summary: What on earth could bring a werewolf and a vampire together? Jasper/Jacob
1. Post Apoc

Numb

Hey there lads and lassie. I'm back with a Twilight fic, and well, I'm not the biggest fan of the book or the movies I didn't hate them either. There were two characters though that I felt got the shaft in the book, so here I am bringing them together… the way it was meant to be.

So, don't own it, don't sue me. Yo.

I: Post-apocalypse

Is there anything greater than the pain of a dream deferred? I think that Langston Hughes wrote that, or something very like it; but, then again there have been so many poets to come and go during the course of my… existence. Still, though, the sentiment remains true, especially in light of recent events.

It was a grand battle, the likes of which I have never seen. Not Gettysburg, nor Antitum or Shiloh, could compare to the scope of our struggle; for all that there were less than one hundred combatants all told.

The details, the blow-by-blow accounts are … elusive. It is the texture of it, the feel and flavor of our struggle that stays with me, not surprising considering when you consider my own particular brand of our curse.

I could feel the passion, the conviction of both sides concerning the rightness of the their cause. It sparkles on my tongue like the rarest of wines and the hottest of blood. Heat, great heat where I have not felt warmth in over a century and a half, washed over and through me on a wave of anger and violence.

My teeth tore at them, my hands crushed them, my speed confounded them. Each action colored by feeling: reds of hate, yellows of fear, purples of my own physical pain. Oh that pain, such that I felt that the control, so carefully inculcated into me, threatened to leave me forever. Still I thrilled to the myriad of emotions swirling around me.

Then a wave, a tsunami, an earth shaking explosion rocked me off of my feet. Triumph, _victory!_ The battered remains of mt enemy dropped from my hands. In shear joy I was lifted up, exulted by the shower of feelings, shining like a diamond in an errant ray of sunlight. Glorified, uplifted, dazzled and dazzling, a vampire messiah hovering over the field of sacred warfare.

Then, the fall.

Clutching black claws, despair and grief, lanced with the electric volts of pure fury grabbed me from the meteoric heights of my euphoria. My soul, the very core of myself, was seized and dragged into the well of horror. This pool, this gulf, was so deep, so all encompassing that I could not fathom it source. No end, no beginning, just the pain forever and ever. Not the even my accompanying physical fall, the impact of immortal marble flesh onto the unyielding mountain soil, could pull me from that eternal abyss.


	2. Scorched Earth

-1Wow, the review response was pretty rapid. Thanks guys. Heh. Ok, so now I get to put in the usual don't sue thing, also if you haven't finished Breaking Dawn, then I wouldn't suggest you read further, since there may be some spoiler age further on.

II: Scorched Earth

As I lie on the ground I was released from my prison house of despair. The enw numbness, the lack of emotional feedback is ultimately what snapped me out of myself.

"Jasper?" a voice, a quiet voice, Esme's voice.

My eyelids fluttered open as focused up at her. "I'm here, Esme, I'm here. What of Alice? Where is she?"

I found myself gather into her arms like a child, it was a disconcerting feeling. I tried to extend my powers, to soothe and calm her, but found myself… unable. "Esme? What's wrong? Why can't I feel anything? _Where is Alice?"_

"She, she didn't make it Jasper," Esme murmured, so low that even my heightened sense of hearing almost missed the words. "It was three of their guards."

I pulled myself away, knowing that I should be shocked, but somehow unable to truly feel so. "How? I mean, wouldn't she have sensed them, seen them coming?"

"I'm not sure yet, none of us are," she sighed. "We were all so busy… and didn't notice because…," another bitter sigh. I think, had she been physically able, that she would have wept then.

I got myself to my feet and tried to dust myself off, extending a hand to her. "What else is there, Esme? What ever it is, I want to face it on my feet."

It's curious how calm I was. Perhaps my newborn lack of emotional sensitivity number me to the pain. It may even have been possible that I was suffering simple shock; no being, no matter how wise or old, can truly be prepared to learn that the pillar of their existence has been tumbled down. All of this is retrospective, of course; at the time I was just waiting for the other show to drop.

My mother, as it were, took my hand righted herself. Grime and, viscera, covered her clothes and splashed her face. She looked tired, a pretty mean feat for a being without a biological need for sleep. She took a moment to try and compose herself, I took the pause to look around.

I felt blind, having no emotional aura to read. Everything seemed so blatant, so stark, almost primitive. My eyes, half crippled as they were, slid over the wreckage: the wolf packs harvesting their fallen, the vampires putting the remains of both friends and enemies to the torch. A knot of people, my family vampiric and lupine, gathered in a group around two smoldering piles.

"Two piles," I noted aloud, my voice sounding flat in my own ears.

"Yes," Esme agreed, a hand on my shoulder, "Alice and Renesmee."


	3. Bringing out the Dead

-1Hey just wanna take a moment here to thank my reviewers: Caww, Pace1818, and Harlequin Jade, thanks for following me on this little adventure. Now, again these are Ms. Meyers characters, and she's welcome to them, I'm not getting paid for this; also please have finished the four Twilight books before you read this, 'kay?

III: Bringing out the Dead

We approached our family with unseemly slowness. The grey overcast shed only bruised illumination on the assembled, like nature was mourning too. They were all there, Carlisle, Rosalie and Emmett, Edward standing over the remains; Bella and Jacob on their knees next to what must have once been Renesmee. Esme and I stood with them, as if we could make a complete circle from the remains of our fragmented whole. Blind as I was without my empathic perception, I endeavored to get as clear an impression of my family as I could, pushing the limits of mundane sight.

Esme's face was marred by a small crease between her brows, streaks of white skim amongst the dirt of battle made her features seem manic and haggard. Her amber eyes turned to Carlisle as she took her place beside him; her hand, only moments ago the claws of a predator, desperately sought his.

He, in turn, took her hand with a need that matched her own. Though Alice and I were not the true children of his bite his face mirrored all the pain any father would feel at the loss of a beloved child. Still I could not share in the pain, not of my own loss, nor as an echo from our father.

Emmett, my brother, my boisterous companion, the never ending fount of cheer was as still as any statute of antiquity. His muscles, once almost quivering with the effervescence of his personality, were now only the perfect planes of a sculptor's image of God.

Rosalie, always so remote and perfect in the cocoon of her tragic past, seemed to be the most affected. Of the four she had, after all, lost the most: in Alice she lost the sister she'd never known that she'd wanted, in Renesemee the vicarious child that she ahd so longed for. Like a wounded bird she seemed unable to stop making small fidgets and movements, her pupils were mad, dilated in a biological remembrance of human pain.

Edward, who's gifts were so like my own, the man who was in so many ways a reflection of myself, had his eyes cast upwards, towards heaven. His lips moved in silence, as if in prayer. For Edward this was the ultimate test. He lost his daughter, the impossible child of his dead flesh, and he wasn't even sure if she had a soul. I knew how he'd wrestled with it; sure of his own damnation, doubting the status of his own eternal being. Did his possible soullessness damn his daughter? Had Bella's humanity bestowed enough grace on the child to ensure the hereafter for the precocious dhamphir that we'd all loved? Though I am no telepath, and at that moment I wasn't even an empath, I could almost hear those thoughts as the flew through his mind once more.

My eyes, hunger for a detail to stir my becalmed mind, flickered to the ground. I slid almost contemptuously over the burnt corpse of Alice. There was nothing there of that remained of my lover. The blackened husk was just an empty vessel that had spilled out its precious contents, Alice was gone.

I was equally unimpressed by what used to be my niece. I had loved her and now she was gone, same as Alice, what was there to do about it now?

Bella, the head of her child in her lap, had her own head bowed. A few wisps of the girl's bronze curls still clung to her ravaged skull, these my sister-in-;aw stroked as she softly sang. Her supernatural voice throbbed as the words of "Amazing Grace" fell from her still lips.

Another sound then, a wild howl to make counterpoint to Bella's hymn. My eyes moved to Jacob, but the changer was not the source. Black held the remains of his mate's hand to his cheek. His eyes were glassy, jet pools sucked in the light and let none escape.

No, the keening dirge came from the other packs. Night furred Sam had gathered the remaining wolves and led them in the ancient wail for the dead. It was a savage sound, as if the agony of the victims since the tribes inception was being sounded. At the end of the dirge there seemed a curious note, that challenged the rage of death, assuaged the suffering for a moment, and promised the calm that would come from acceptance.

"We should leave here," I heard myself say in that flat unemotional voice. "The fires will attract rangers and curious campers soon enough. We cannot be discovered." Bella's head snapped up, and Edwards jerked down; both of them turned angry eyed stares at me.

"How can you be so cold? My daughter is dead, _Alice_ is dead," Bella raged at me. "All you can think about is some damned camper walking by and seeing you? I thought you _loved them_…"

The rest of her tirade was brought up short as Edward placed a hand on her shoulder. "Please, Jasper, you must give us a moment," his voice was tight and controlled but his eyes still sparked. "Surely you understand.," I knew he tried to read my mind and met only my cold indifference.

Shaking my head I turned on my heel. "Do not linger," I said in my dead way. "Bring these," a random gesture towards the bodies, "for burial if you must." With that I set off for the house.


	4. Eulogy

-1Wow, I'm not used to getting responses for a story the same day it's put out… a guy could get spoiled. Heh blush. So since people actually like my little tale here's a new chapter, Welcome and thanks to two new reviewers: VolturiLeader and escribej. Usual provisos here. Thanks, Ryv.

IV: Eulogy

They all fell to work on the funeral, or in tying up the loose ends of our skirmish, or just mourning for the fallen: all the things that needed to be done. I, well, I did not.

A week, a full seven days, had passed and still I felt nothing. Can you imagine the loss of such an integral part of yourself, an entire sense? Picture yourself biting into a tiramisu and not tasting it, standing before Michelangelo's _David _and not being able to see or touch it, or standing in a field of wildflowers and not having so much as a whiff of the aromas.

I know that they worried for me, how could they not? I was a very robot. My speech was flat, uninflected, there was no flavor to my words, no accent on this or that particular syllable. I was speaking a most correct dialect, dictionary perfect to the last definition, my sentence structure was of the utmost perfection. It was a completely dead language.

Jacob, I'm told, was in a similar state. He had joined Edward in seclusion at the cottage, which people felt was for the best. Only Renesemee's parents could begin to fathom the depths of his loss. Ten years before the confrontation Jacob had _imprinted _on the newly born girl. No one could quite fathom what that meant, no one except myself of course.

It's hard to put into words, I felt it as intensely as Jacob himself had. For one moment there was a feeling of emptiness, of being a vessel that just happened to be labeled "Jacob Black." Then being filled, fileld to the4 very limit of his soul with this being called "Renesemee." At the same time himself, his identity, rushed out and into and filled a similar void in the depths of the newborn. Something stolen away, something found in return, a lack of identity and a brand new definition of self.

It was an eternal moment that promised eternity. It could not be defined as mere love. I, who have savored the entire emotional feast from bitterest to sweetest, still cannot give this feeling a name.

As my niece rapidly developed physically, so too did the complexity of this emotional tie. When Renesmee was chronologically seven years of age her body was that of a seventeen year old siren, her mind had all the cagey complexity of a middle aged soap opera villainess. She was perfect.

They then had three wonderful year together, and I felt every moment of the sheer joy they took in each other. I once pitied Alice that she had become the innocent victim of reflected physical and emotional ecstasy. The glow that surrounded them lit the room with a golden light whenever they were together. It was a beautiful thing, and it was gone.

I knew that I should have been worried for Jacob, and for myself, but I simple _could not be._ Even when Carlisle asked me if to speak at the service, to which I agreed, I felt nothing. It was only that I… remembered… that as Alice's partner that I was supposed to speak, it was as simple as that.

A simple ceremony. My family, the wolf packs, a few residents of La Place, Bella's father, were in attendance. We held it outdoors, well away from the cottage and the mansion. Two stone cairns laid over the interred ashes of our lost loved ones; between these mounds an oak tree was planted. Under the guidance of our friend Benjamin's gifts the tree had grown as tall and powerful as any in the entire forest. Sunlight, rare in this area, filtered down through its branching limbs. I registered the beauty of the scene with my, now, usual cold indifference, as if I was viewing a well crafted photograph.

Jacob's father, Billy, feeble in his wheelchair but wielding the inner power of a tribal chief asked the blessings of the Great Spirit of his people. He implored the spirits of his ancestors to ensure a place for Renesmee and Alice both in the sacred lodge of the fallen heroes of the tribe.

Then Edward stood, this caused me a moment of incurious surprise, since logic suggested that Jacob spoke for Renesmee, as I had been asked to speak for Alice.

"My friends," he began in a clear voice. "We have come today in remembrance of two we love, my sister Alice and my daughter Renesmee. My daughter Renesmee, our miracle child, our beautiful child. Her very existence made the bonds we share today possible: Native and Caucasian, werewolf and vampire, living and undead.

"I was once worried that I would be damned forever, soulless and empty. Then I met my love, Bella, and she put me on the first steps along the path towards realization with the power that love. Then at the end of that road was Renesmee, who let me know that I was not alone or forsaken. That girl, my curly haired angel, was my proof that there was a Creator ad that he loved me and believed in me. I now find comfort in knowing that my girl has returned to that Maker, her mission here fulfilled and she can and will enjoy all the rich rewards of Heaven.

"I miss you, my beloved little girl. I thank you for what you have given me: my soul, my peace of mind, and for my brother and son Jacob. Look down little one, and rest easy, we all soon will be well. Until we meet again."

It was beautiful and simple, a fitting tribute to my niece's purity. The mortals wiped away tears, the lupines gave a gentle croon, the vampires sighed softly as a spring breeze; the only physical vent for their sorrow. I merely noted the beauty of his words and the effect of them upon those gathered there.

I then rose and took my place where Edward had stood, before the great oak tree between the mounds. I was dressed in the black clothing required of this situation, my hair in perfect place, as composed as a young cleric in an illuminated manuscript.

"Thank you all for coming," I said in my flat way. "It would have meant a great deal to Alice." This was the simple truth, Alice adored having friends; I think that her years of confinement and isolation may have had something to do with that.

"Please, remember Alice as she was, not as she became, that also would have made her happy," again that was simple truth. I reasoned that the mourners may have needed a bit of encouragement to move on with their lives as well.

I nodded to them all and then turned from the assemblage. Many gasped at the stark and spare words I'd said on behalf of my former lover. Someone, most probably Emmett, rose to follow me but was restrained as I went into the deep forest.


	5. Redemption

-1Well, this story kinda just spilled out of me, it happens I guess. So here we go, this is the last part. I really rather like way this turned out, and maybe I'll take another swing at a story, perhaps "Numb" from Jacob's POV? Eh, we'll see. I hope you all like it. Oh, here's the token I don't own it disclaimer.

V: Redemption

I stood beside one of the many creeks that formed the now largely meaningless boarder between vampire and lupine territory. I was not there for any particular reason or need. After my speech at the funeral I had no need for solace, it was the final stroke that completely chilled my soul.

There was a new kind of clarity in my wintry perceptions. Unlike the myriad textures and colors I had once known, the feelings that had so enriched my sight, this new clarity was precise and diamond hard. Everything seemed to be edged in a razor thin outline of my own dispassion, I saw only the stark, presented, truth of any given thing.

Something nagged at me however; why was I merely accepting this? Shouldn't I at least be mildly curious as to its source? My incurious mind shrugged off this as an echo of a remembered feeling, as inconsequential, a perfectly logical reflective moment in response to change.

"You gave quite a speech back there," a growl beside me. I glanced over and saw Jacob Black, somehow rustic looking despite his somber clothing. His black eyes were flinty as he stared straight ahead.

"It seemed appropriate," I answered, shifting my gaze ahead, trying to find what had so take Jacob's concentration.

"I think Alice deserved more than that," his tone was critical. "You loved her, didn't you?"

"I did, but she is gone now," what was he driving at? "There's no point in dwelling is there?" Strangely I felt a dim resentment, my new mental distance turned to examine this feeling and tried to analyze it.

"What is it like to be able to just turn your heart off like that?" Now he did look at me, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. "How do you do it?"

"I didn't," my voice cracked; how odd that my voice would crack, "it just happened to me after we won the other day." There, that sounded better, it was the straight truth and the truth is always better than a lie or any of the shadings of meaning that one can put into words.

"I can't get rid of the pain Jasper," Jacob's voice was strained. "I was hoping you could sort of calm me down," a sigh, and a bitter nasty sounding laugh. "But they told me how you were behaving, and I wanted that instead, and you can't give it to me. I think I know how Bella used to feel now."

"I'm sorry, I wish I could help you," it was the correct thing to say, strangely, though, I meant it.

"I just want to scream."

"Then you should," there perfectly logical, it would be good for him to vent his feelings, as I could not. "Scream Jacob."

His black hair streamed behind him as he threw his head back. The noise that erupted from his mouth was more than a scream. I was more like three voices each proclaiming at once: a wail of pain, a scream of absolute denial, and a whimper of pure fear. It tore through me, white hot to burn away my cold. The pure power of Jacob's feeling pounded in my dead veins, pumped my stilled heart. My own mouth opened, my lungs filled, and a ragged answering cry was torn from my own lips.

It took but a few moments, and then a weeping Jacob was in my arms, his head on my shoulder. He was so very warm, so vivid, alive and terrified. My hard granite hand felt as if it would profane his pliant back as I instinctively stroked him.

"Easy Jacob, get it out, it'll make you feel better; maybe not right away, but it's a start." I was whispering like a parent to frightened child, willing my words to be true. "breathe, breathe and elt it out my friend."

Slowly his shaking stopped, his breathing became steady. I felt a palpable relief as he began to uncoil around the hard knot of his grief. He looked up into my eyes, and then I realized how I had _felt_ that relief.

"Jasper," he said in alarm, alarm that I felt and saw and tasted and heard, that I let fill me and prod me to alleviate it.

"It's ok Jake," I laughed, a little drunken laugh of joy. "I'm ok."

His eyes lit with surprise. "are you….? I feel different.. Did you…?"

"I feel different too," I answered, so grateful for the help he gave me that I acted on impulse, and took his head into my hands. How much I loved him in that moment for giving me back what had been taken from me that I kissed him.

I never meant to, it just _happened_. When our lips met, I felt his shock, and the subtle recoiling in him, then, as my iron grip held him I felt the yielding. He was responding to me, to my simple gratitude and the call of one lonely soul to another. Our tongues danced together, first one dominant then the other, a meeting of equals.

Well, that is how it happened, at least as far as I can recall. Days passed into weeks, and so on. Of course we had plenty of things to discuss, plans to make, and …eh… physical dynamics to work out, and those things filled our time, replacing the coldness that had seeped into both our souls.

As I think about it, what we have is not the same twinning of souls Jacob had enjoyed with my niece, nor the interdependence I had with Alice. It's love, and that's enough for us. At times, however, his eyes are distant and I forgive him for it, as I sometimes dwell on my 'might have been,' In that we are equals too, and help each other through the dark moments.

End.


End file.
